


diagram this sin triangle (but the biblical kind and not sine)

by leifstroganoff



Category: Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, F/M, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Wet Dream, i guess kinda, most of this is just tobin pining and being horny (the full spectrum of human emotion)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:14:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24924475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leifstroganoff/pseuds/leifstroganoff
Summary: Tobin knows that Zoey and Leif are dating. And Tobin is happy for them. Why wouldn't he be?
Relationships: Zoey Clarke/Leif Donnelly/Tobin Batra
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	diagram this sin triangle (but the biblical kind and not sine)

**Author's Note:**

> idk what to tell you the discord was horny (this one is literally just self-indulgent and for the discord yall know who you are)
> 
> everyday the ships im writing for get more and more niche

Tobin knows that Zoey and Leif are dating. And Tobin is _happy_ for them, he swears, up and down, cross his little jaded heart. At first, he didn’t _know,_ but he _knew,_ noticing that Leif wasn’t coming back to their apartment at night and they were making the most obvious bedroom eyes at each other all day, every day. It’s really a miracle nobody else clued into it (or, if they did, they had the decency not to shout about it) with how fucking obvious they’re being (and he’s not bitter, what about his behavior would make you think he’s _bitter?)_. 

After about a week of knowing without _knowing,_ he has to come back into the office because he left his tamagotchi at his desk and he _cannot_ let another one die on him, he doesn’t know if he can handle another tamagotchi funeral. When he strolls casually out of the elevators, he expects the place to be abandoned, but he’s stopped in his tracks before he even reaches the bullpen when he hears a _moan,_ followed by a gasp and a very breathy ‘ _Zoey’._

When his eyes finally focus on the edge of the bullpen, he sees Leif pushed up against his standing desk, slouched down so that his elbows are holding him up, a head full of red hair buried in his neck, and her hands are - _oh. Oh, that is something he should not be looking at._ His eyes should be wanting to look anywhere but there and it takes him far longer than he’s willing to admit to tear his eyes away and take a deep breath.

As much as he would literally rather do anything else than interrupt them and bring attention to the fact that he saw this at all, he’s not willing to leave without his tamagotchi; he’s already committed far too many care mistakes and leaving it on his desk would almost certainly kill it. _Fuck, why does he even care?_

He clears his throat as he walks towards the bullpen, faux-confident facade going up in full force.

“Nah, don’t stop on account of Tobin, just left my boy Archie here,” Zoey’s retreat from Leif was immediate when she processed that someone else was approaching, but it takes Leif a second to catch up, his brain still seconds behind them in Zoey-land, every brain cell he possesses redirected to where Zoey’s hands have just vacated. 

Tobin grabs the tamagotchi from his desk, scooping up his bottle of hot sauce and one of his fidget spinners, too, just to avoid any possibility of maybe needing to come back during non-working hours ever again.

“Tobin, I-” Leif starts, but Tobin is already casually swaggering away, his free hand waving behind him.

“Don’t worry about it, you kids have fun.”

The nonchalance in his tone is practiced, coming out with ease as his stomach twists in knots that he doesn’t want to untie. Untying those knots means confronting why they’re there, confronting the lingering thought in the back of his brain as he steps into the elevator of himself in Zoey’s shoes, his hands doing what hers were and - _nope, no, absolutely not, Tobin._ That train of thought’s gotta end right there, before this turns into even more trouble. 

So, Zoey and Leif are _definitely_ a thing. He knows now. That’s fine. So what? He decides he’s just not gonna think about it. And he’s pretty successful at not thinking about it, save for a very awkward conversation where Leif tells him that they’re dating and he’s sorry that he found out like that. If he convinces himself that the knots are just because Leif didn’t confide in him about his relationship, well, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

* * *

Leif is sucking on his neck. Leif is sitting next to him, sideways on the couch, sucking on his neck in their living room and his hand has very quickly wandered from where it started, resting on his chest, to palm at his crotch and _holy shit._

Every ounce of Leif’s focus is on him, lips trailing down from his neck, teeth scraping over his collarbone (and he doesn’t remember taking his shirt off, but he’s not gonna complain if it comes with that sensation) and his hand _has not moved_ and it’s excruciating, he needs more, so he bucks up into Leif’s hand, creating the pressure he craves and bringing a moan from his own throat, eliciting a laugh from Leif, warm breath spilling over his chest and dissipating far too soon for his liking, a disappointment made up for by the immediate lowering of Leif’s tongue to swirl around his nipple.

His hand finally moves properly, grabbing the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, pulling them both down to let his erection spring out and using the same hand to immediately wrap around it, moving slowly from the base to the tip and he can see the delight that Leif takes in his hitched breath, in how absolutely unraveled he is at his fingertips, bringing his lips up to graze at his neck again as his hand moves in steady motions, the confidence that he’s admired for years now focused on _him,_ everything that makes up Leif now focused on _him._

Leif’s hand stills, thumb brushing over the tip of his cock and he fucking _whimpers,_ any shame he could think to have abandoned in favor of the sensations thrumming through his body and he can feel Leif smiling into his neck, _the smug jerk_ , his hand still not moving, in contrast to his lips which have sucked _several_ dark spots onto his neck. Every second of feeling the warmth of Leif’s hand around his cock without the stimulation is agony, his thumb swiping across the top every couple seconds isn’t enough and _fuck,_ Leif knows that. 

_“Please.”_

All it takes is that one word and Leif’s hand picks up again, moving in the perfect rhythm; he almost whines when he pulls away from his neck, but he doesn’t have time to before Leif’s lips are on his own instead, rough and needy and with way too much tongue, which should be gross, but it’s _Leif_ so it’s not, and his hand is moving faster and Tobin’s breathing is matching it as Leif’s lips push against his own and then he’s spilling over into Leif’s hands, strangled moans disappearing down Leif’s throat as he lets himself go, but Leif’s focus doesn’t break, working Tobin through every second of his orgasm until he’s relaxed completely, blissed out and breathless.

And then he’s in his bed. Awake and alone and _fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._ That was just not cool of his subconscious to do. It’s not the first wet dream he’s had about his best friend (they went through puberty and figuring out their sexualities together, he’s had _quite a few)_ , but it’s fresh in his head now, hard-on still pressing into his mattress, and it’s definitely the one that’s left him with the largest pit of _guilt_ in his stomach. 

Maybe the knots in his stomach whenever he sees Leif kiss Zoey mean a little more than he wants them to.

* * *

He tries not to think about it. He really does. He tries not to think about how Leif’s lips would feel against his own or how they would feel somewhere else. He tries not to think about the fact that he feels like he can’t even be in the same room as his best friend anymore without feeling like he’s about to combust. He just tries not to think, in general, and, for the most part, he’s successful. 

But that minority, that part where he’s not successful, is the absolute worst. Because now that he knows about them, Zoey and Leif don’t avoid their apartment anymore. They, in fact, spend quite a bit of time in their apartment, being cute and nauseating. But he can deal with that. He can smile and tease them and act like his heart isn’t breaking with every teasing kiss and afternoon cuddle on the couch that he witnesses; he got good at faking a long time ago, no need to worry about his performance now. 

What he can’t deal with is when they go to bed. Their apartment isn’t shitty, per se, but the walls could definitely be made of a thicker material; or maybe Zoey and Leif are just really fucking loud, he doesn’t particularly care which it is. Either way, he spends a good majority of his nights with a pillow pressed tightly against his ear or his earbuds in with the volume turned up as loud as he can.

Because when he can hear them, his imagination isn’t far behind, and that is just a road he cannot go down.

But tonight, his bluetooth earbuds are dead, he left his wired ones at work, and they must be being louder than normal because the pillow is _not_ working and all he can hear is Zoey gasping and he _does not wanna think about that._ Or, well, he _does, actually,_ but he’s very ashamed of that and he’d rather say that he doesn’t wanna think about it than that he does wanna think about it and that he knows he shouldn’t.

As he’s processed seeing them together, he’s also had to process that it’s not just Zoey he’s jealous of. Sure, he’s been into Leif for longer, it’s hard to beat a high school crush turned late-20’s pining, but Zoey’s sure giving him a run for his money with every lame pun and awkward joke that shouldn’t make him laugh. Because he couldn’t _just_ be in love with his best friend, he had to fall for his girlfriend, too? Tobin’s never been an overachiever, but damn it if he didn’t strive too far with this one.

And he can still hear Zoey through the wall, gasping out nonsense words mixed in with Leif’s name and several expletives and he doesn’t wanna think about what’s happening less than thirty feet away from him. He doesn’t wanna think about Leif’s head between Zoey’s legs, drawing those gasps out of her or her fingers tangled in his hair, eliciting those low growling moans he can just barely hear, her other hand scratching at the base of his neck, leaving pink marks that Leif’s collared shirts barely cover. 

And _fuck,_ this is exactly why he was avoiding those thoughts, a really inconvenient boner pressing up into his blanket. He pushes his boxers down, hand moving to grip his hard-on and stroke, pushing the guilt that’s become commonplace to the back of his mind as the narrative seems to shift in the next room, the gasps he hears now taking Leif’s voice. In his mind, she’s jerking him off now, her lips sucking at every spot on his neck she knows will drive him wild. Tobin’s hand speeds up as Leif’s moans get louder and then go quiet for several seconds (no doubt coerced by a hand around his throat). When Leif moans again, rough and scratchy and torn apart by Zoey’s hands, Tobin is getting closer, his hand moving as fast as his imagination; but it’s Zoey’s voice that brings him over the edge, soft and sweet, telling Leif to cum, and _fuck_ , he’s embarrassed, despite the fact that he’s alone, at how little it takes to get him off.

As he cums and lets his body relax into his bed, he feels the guilt pool in his stomach again. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ He’s gotta figure this out before he drives himself insane, but tonight, he just wants to sleep and forget about Zoey and Leif falling asleep in each other’s arms while he falls asleep alone. So, he wipes his hand on the sheet, making a mental note that tomorrow is now laundry day, before turning over and just letting himself be thankful that they had finished when he did and he might actually be able to sleep.

* * *

Zoey is in his bed, on top of him and in his bed and grinding down on him as he sits against his headboard and her hands are pushing on his chest, her lips moving just at the edge of his beard, tongue slipping through and the wet sensation alone would be enough to push him over the edge. But just when he thinks he can’t take it anymore, she stills her hips and sits back on his thighs, hands running down his chest, fingertips stilling just below his hip bones, excruciatingly close to the hard-on that she’s directly responsible for and he feels like every nerve in his body is on fire. 

Her hands move back up, fingertips trailing up the side of his bare chest, the soft pressure sending shivers down Tobin’s spine. Her thumbs reach in to brush over his nipples and _fuck,_ if she doesn’t touch his dick again soon, he’s fairly certain that his brain’s gonna start leaking out of his ears.

_“Zoey.”_

“Hm?” 

And that’s just cheap, feigned naivete to what she’s doing to him, hand snaking around to the back of his neck and kissing him instead and at least that’s _something;_ her lips are soft and the kiss is slow and it makes something turn in his stomach as her tongue slides across his top lip before entering his mouth and everything is moving so _slow_ and the moan she elicits with her tongue is pained, he just wants _more._

_“Zoey, please.”_ He pulls his head back to speak, lips swollen and voice rough and every ounce of neediness is poured into those two words, practically begging.

“Mhm,” She doesn’t form a proper response, choosing instead to use her grip where his neck meets his shoulders to pull herself closer and begin grinding on him again and bringing her lips back to his neck, drawing out a low and rough _‘oh, Zoey’_ and before he has time to process exactly how good that feels, he’s cumming in his boxers and he doesn’t even have the decency to be ashamed of dry humping like he’s a teenager again in his dad’s basement.

And then he’s in his bed, awake and alone _again,_ grabbing the extra pillow on his bed and bringing it tight over the back of his head, ignoring the discomfort he feels in his boxers where he came from rutting against the bed in his sleep. He just wants to forget about his dumb feelings of extreme attraction and pining for his best friend and his best friend’s girlfriend, but his stupid goddamn subconcious can’t even let him do that, huh? 

* * *

Tobin is chilling on the couch playing online Smash (and crushing it, mind you) when Leif gets back from a date with Zoey (date is a light word, because if he knows them as well as he thinks he does, they probably just listened to a podcast while Leif made dinner, the _nerds)._ He expects him to go straight in his room to shower and get ready for bed like he usually does, so he doesn’t break too much of his attention from the game, but then he notices that after he hung his keys up, he remained standing by the couch, watching Tobin beat this Roy main’s ass.

That alone isn’t weird (it’s not like they don’t spend time together in the living room, and they play and watch each other play video games all the time), it’s just that he can practically feel the nervous energy coming off of Leif. He’s not just standing there because he wants to watch his boy crush it at Smash, he very clearly wants to address something and Tobin doesn’t really wanna know what that something is. Unfortunately, the match is over all too soon and Leif takes the opportunity before he can jump into another game.

“Hey, uh, can we talk for a sec?” He asks, rounding the edge of the couch and sitting down next to Tobin as Tobin sets the controller down on the coffee table. 

“What’s up?” 

Leif doesn’t start talking immediately, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, wringing his hands in front of him and Tobin _really_ doesn’t like the energy in the room right now. 

_“So…_ Uh, I don’t really - I don’t know how to bring this up nonchalantly, so I’m just gonna go for it. Our walls are… _very thin._ And, well, hearing you moaning my girlfriend’s name in your sleep was… a _little_ concerning.”

_Fuck._ So, that’s what this is about.

“Dude, I’m so sor -”

“Sorry, I don’t wanna be rude, but I actually spent a lot of time planning what I was gonna say here, and it’s very important to me that I say it all.”

“Oh, uh, okay. Continue.”

“So, my gut reaction was this weird jealousy, which, in hindsight, was kinda justified, but mostly ridiculous. And then I thought about it more. And more. And then I talked to Zoey.”

_Talked to Zoey?_ It’s bad enough that Leif knows about the dreams, but now Zoey does, too? _Fuck, man._

“We talked for a while, actually.” And that does not calm the nerves floating around in his stomach. “And we came to the conclusion… that, uh, only if it’s something you’d actually be interested in, you could… also date us?” 

And that is just nowhere near anything that Tobin expected him to say. He expected _‘we need some space from you’_ or even just an _‘I expected better from you’_ , but this? _Fuck,_ he doesn’t know what to do with this.

“Is this like a pity thing?” He knows it sounds rude, but it really feels like he’s getting _Punk’d_ here and it’d be much more embarrassing to have said _‘yes, of course, literally all I want to do is date both of you’_ and it turn out to be some sick joke than to deflect now and not have to worry about it.

“Dude, no.” Leif says and it sounds honest, but the knots in Tobin’s stomach won’t untie, no matter how much he wants to believe that the situation is legit. It doesn’t _feel_ real. “We like you. I mean, not, like, as a weird unit. Like, I like you and Zoey likes you and if, by some crazy, random happenstance, you happened to like both of us, that would be… I mean, it’s on the table.”

_“You like me?”_ Tobin doesn’t like the vulnerability that bleeds into his voice; it was supposed to be sarcastic or at least just disbelieving, but what comes out is just sad. 

“Dude, is that really a question?” _Yes_ , it certainly is, jackass. How was he supposed to know the answer? “I’ve liked you since _high school,_ I didn’t think I was subtle about it. I just thought… I thought it was pretty one-sided.” 

“Well, _fuck,_ dude.” 

“Uh, no pressure, but you’ve still not… addressed the actual proposition here.”

Tobin doesn’t know why he’s not just said ‘yes’, yet. He wants to. This is practically his dream situation since the realization that he was falling for both of them, so why can’t he muster up the courage to just let himself be seen and say _‘yes, I want this’?_

“You don’t… have to answer right now, actually, I know this is -” 

Tobin can’t take it anymore, the pressure of wanting to speak but not being able to find the words spilling up out of his chest and translating into a hand on the back of Leif’s neck and a kiss that it only takes him a second to reciprocate and _fuck,_ his lips are even better than he remembers, soft and sweet and they taste like the wine he must’ve had at Zoey’s. 

“Is that a yes?” Leif says as he pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against Tobin’s.

“Yeah. _Fuck,_ yes, that’s a yes.” 

There’s a second that they stay there, stupid grins on their faces, and they’re not entirely sure which one of them goes back in for a kiss first, and they suppose it doesn’t really matter. Before long, Leif’s lips drift from Tobin’s own to kiss his jawline, disregarding the irritation of a scratchy beard against already swelling lips, moving down to scrape his teeth across his adam's apple, relishing in the hitch in Tobin’s breath at that.

“Is this okay?” 

And Tobin wants to yell and say ‘there is not a universe where this is anything close to not okay’, but the ghost of Leif’s breath on his neck and the shiver that that sends down his spine leaves him only able to nod and let out a low _‘yeah’_ . Because it’s so okay and it’s everything he’s wanted since they were fifteen and _‘practicing kissing for when they get girlfriends’_ (and they must’ve been a lot dumber than they both like to think if they really thought that was a thing people did). 

This feels like a dream come true for him; and it kind of literally is, his thoughts drifting back to every appearance that Leif and Zoey have made in his dreams for the last couple months as Leif’s kisses move southward, stopping at the ‘v’ of his t-shirt and taking the opportunity to prod Tobin to take his t-shirt off (which he does, happily) before continuing down, soft and sweet and better than anything Tobin’s imagination could’ve dreamt up. This time, it’s real, and _fuck,_ of all things, he never expected _that._

**Author's Note:**

> as always comments give me serotonin and they also make me smile and idk i have a pretty nice smile so u should contribute to that

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [so i'm in love with my boyfriend and his best friend (should we unionize?)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26553613) by [ElliHelm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElliHelm/pseuds/ElliHelm)




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